


Pink Bedsheets

by Taliax



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28714590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliax/pseuds/Taliax
Summary: Frisk takes a nap in the true lab.  Maybe it won't take away their waking nightmares, but the bed is a small and needed mercy.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	Pink Bedsheets

**Author's Note:**

> I was just thinking about the spoon monster and this happened. Let my child rest

There’s a bad memory in their pocket, and in their mind, and in their soul. Glitching files and voices through the phone that aren’t there. Stabbing vines and lasers, pulsing eyes and _laughs_ —terrible, screeching, soul-chilling laughs. Nightmares that sleep won’t take away, not that they’ve tried.

Frisk stares at the empty bed. It would be nice to try. Really nice…

They run their hand over the pink sheets. Soft. ...Sticky. Who—or what—has been sleeping in these beds, anyway?

They shiver. If the Memoryheads were anything to go by, it can’t be anything good.

Still. They’re so _tired._ They wish they could be like Papyrus, who apparently doesn’t sleep. But they’re just a kid who’s lived through parts of this day over and over again.

Even ignoring the hours lost each time they died, it’s been a full day. Climbing the mountain. Making more friends than they’d ever had on the surface. Fighting and flirting, smiling and sparing. It has to be night by now—they’d seen twilight filtering through the barrier before…

Before.

_(Dust in the air, twisted grins and rainbow souls, crying for help over and over and over—)_

Well. Nothing in this abandoned lab can be worse than that, right?

They climb up onto the bed. The sheets were already pulled down to its end, like it was waiting for them. It’s cold in here—too cold for Hotland; where did the elevator take them?—but they’re too tired to tuck themselves in.

Toriel would’ve tucked them in, they’re sure of it. She’d been so nice… they hope they get to see her again.

(They hope it won’t be because her husband’s dead.)

The scent of butterscotch wafts from their pocket. Right. They’ll get to eat the smushed piece of pie all over again. But not now. Now…

The blankets are creeping over their legs.

Their eyes flash open, but they don’t move. Their soul hasn’t been pulled out yet. They’re not being attacked.

(Yet.)

They don’t see anything but gray tile floor and the next bed over. But… if they look closer… reflected in the tile is a tall, white figure.

They squint, but can’t make out much more than that. It’s sort of… spoon-shaped? Not the scariest monster they’ve seen by far, anyway. 

Well. Maybe they can ignore it and it will go away.

But the blankets are still creeping upwards. Like… the monster is tucking them in?

_Oh._ Heat rushes to their cheeks. They should know better by now. Most monsters are nice, and compassionate, and more likely to comfort a child than terrorize them. 

Flowey is wrong. The world isn’t kill or be killed.

The spoon-shaped monster gives them a little pat on the head. Then it’s gone, leaving them with nothing but warmth and a smile.

They drift off to sleep, determined to save this merciful world when they wake.


End file.
